


sing sing for you are worthy

by LSalmon



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, How Do I Tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:27:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25855102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSalmon/pseuds/LSalmon
Summary: My 'masterpieces'.(Every chapter is not connected with the others unless stated otherwise. Unbeta'ed because I don't have a permanent beta for this type of stuff.)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	1. Hehe

**Author's Note:**

> Stuff I make when I have nothing to do, or when I'm bored. All the titles are actually what I titled the document for it.

The silence abides.

Cold thin air penetrates the atmosphere. The suffocating emptiness, the monochromatic colours of life, the crawling despair and desolation that swallows all living being whole unschatefully. Distant sounds of time ticking as slow as ever, striking and draining life out of all that has ever been and will ever be.

A light far too blinding to be friendly, and far too disruptive its content for a youth to bear and watch all-day long. Yet as hours tick by, as the deadly sun rises and falls in a line far too non-appealing for all but those who cherise all that they have, the eyes never once stray far away from its accursed existence.

Static colour that only changes once in a blue moon. Rotten smell that one could never truly be used to along with the growling of the dead and critters of beings far too small for man to see with the naked eye, a normal being—no matter it being human or not—would have gone madder than mad on the third day.

Chirps from the dark. Chirps from the sky. Chirps from the ground. Chirps from everywhere. Around-and-a-round it went. Echoing through the piercing sky. Rumbling from the deserted land. Rippling at the water surface. A sound there. A cry here. A laugh over. A word gone.

The days grow darker and longer still, altogether wasted with nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.Nothing.Nothing.Nohing.Nothing.Nothign.Noot,.NOOooo—

_ Snap! _

?bOOm¿

There goes the rabbit go! Hahahaha.

Away and away it runs, yet farther and farther away it strays.

Longing is the soul of all, yet a single heart bleeds much.

Here comes our SaviOUr—the greatest bEinG that has ver adorned this WoRLd!

Rejoice!!!1 wE Are onE aNd a MiGhty! THe LRdc hAash AGrantAd Oru WIEsh!

HAzshashASHaaHAhsahahashaqhashAAHSahaShaShaShuaSha!!!!!!!!

_ Snap?1 _

The static turns off, and silence recedes over the world once more. Formless beings that grew no more; the silent screams and calm anger violently shrinks towards nothingness. We lie and lie and lie and lie and weep and weep and weep and scream over darkness surrender. Yet all is lost. Hope dies once and revives no longer.

They stray further and away, clutching broken hearts and disheartened souls. Mending bones is all too slow. Mending minds all too real. Scars exist and they do. Scars come and we know. Scars is gone and so is do.

Forgiv m e . I t’s al l tooo----hehehehehehehHEHHEHEHEHEEHHEHEHEHEHE

_ Snap! _

I wish you all a goodnight and an everlasting sweet dream.

May the szOlu bring you happiness and joy!


	2. It's weird (so it must be good?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep on struggling with LotM ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ
> 
> Just gonna post this because it was already written a long time ago. Again, this and the previous chapter are not supposed to have any relation with one another.

It felt like an endless moment.

The great sense of disparity; the hollowness of the soul; the lonely feeling that devours each and all friendly thoughts. Each so evident and yet so distant that I feel myself succumbing to the great despair that none shall describe.

I wonder: was it always this way?

For the repetitive moments of life to actually devour me; for it to destroy me so completely that my own thoughts fight against my spirit and give away to the self I long to destroy much ago.

God, for ever if there one exists, why must it that you gave me a brain? Why is it so that you gave me the clarity of the heart, to the point where whence I was young and naive, and my heart and soul suspired for your might and wisdom and eternity, and I long for you yet little was myself given to the purity of a child?

Hitherto I was childish and immature, eager to please and quick to anger. Yet my eyes now close to the window of life, zealous to the disparity that life has given to others. I burn far too quick and far too bright, perhaps. The former must be true, while the latter I dither over. It is only my own stupidity that I long for an obsession; that my own mind could not converge to only one self and choose to divide itself to beings I cannot and will perhaps never control.

The sense of despair that I hold over the morrow. My own incapability and insubordination over words hold little respect to the self I cultivated from my teen. The hereafter is as bleak as the city sky, and as muddy as the moat surrounding a demonic castle.

I grow old and weak and ever so bitter yet unyielding to my stubborn self. Were I a better person, I would change who I am and tell my problems to the people I trust. Yet that is forever a truth I cannot bear and will never cease to be a non-existence less my fearful self towards the unpredictable nature of mankind grows lesser over the centuries to come.

I had told my brethren over how easy humans are: of their quick nature to point and their intimate nature towards sin and erring. So easily do I forget what humanity truly is, and so easily that I never understand it. Is it truly emotions that makes a human ‘human’? Or is it something else? A deity’s mind is said to be different from humans, yet why must they, beings of greater knowledge and power, yield to our selfish selves? To please us and make us worship them for prices of miracle and so?

Forgive my fleeting thoughts. My mind is quite active lately, and I sense a terrible danger looming over us all. Of course, never believe it—my moods tend to cloud over my judgement and give me indescribable beliefs.

Ha-ha.

...I believe I’m in a far better shape now. So, the beginning of this narration should no longer be pointing to my current self. Perhaps you would find this current self to be less interesting to my previous state. If you do so, I suppose it makes much sense: an artist tends to be one whose emotions deter ever so often.

Oh, I must congratulate you, truly. Reading until this point, are you not bored to death? I sure am. My unsophisticated writing must now be tiring you, and with my previous self asleep, I believe that things are about to be even more of a bore.

Pity you, I suppose.

Hmm?

It’s quite rare for me to write so much, if you must believe. I quite detest thinking about my emotions so clearly; it is better to keep them locked and far away from my rational mind so as to create a clear self that is uncontaminated with many things. It’s a pity that every single one of myself thinks otherwise. If only we could reach a consensus and make ourselves a better self. Hehehe.

I believe I cannot sustain my presence any longer, especially with the boredom over writing such a terrible essay. Please, do forgive me. I am, after all, a reader for pure thinking, rather than for emotions.

Goodbye.


	3. We Live in an Odd World—You and I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stay away from smoke kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for school actually—not that it was accepted. So this thing was left to rot in my computer.
> 
> (I don't even want to try to reread this.)

A dense fog covered the streets. The sun, despite its apparent self, grew hidden within the thick smog. Silhouettes of people fade in and out, and the gallops of horses with carriages behind vanish just as quickly as they enter. Though an eerie sight, there was a sense of serenity found hidden from the seldom sound of echoes.

The city, though it could be inferred to be a place with a great fog, once hold within it a state where a sight to more than 500 meters could be seen. The Revolution—with its great many advancements in technology and a great many others—had given the people not enough time to preserve and regulate the state of air that spewed out of burning oil and many other fuels. And with the city itself being the capital, the hundreds of accumulation of factories and other uses had swept the place to the state it currently is.

Of course, some great many other tragedies would have occurred over the years within the city-state. Perhaps if it had not been the capital, then things would have been far more peaceful and easier. But it could not be so.

With a great exhale, Justin watched as the smoke dispersed to the sky above. The smell of burnt tobacco tinged the air, blending together with the odd odor that pollution tends to bring out. Musty and with an astringing taste of sewage. He prickled his eyes to the streets below, the thick haze not obscuring whatever vision he could differ:

The limp from a hooded figure as they slowly made their way through; the sound of obscured yet tingling laughter from a pair of women; the clarity of horses as they neighed their way on the toxic land; and the hidden yet not-so-hidden dangers lurking around the corner.

Justin’s ears twitched.

Not a moment too long, light footsteps came from behind. And a figure soon appeared at Justin’s side. Pale skin due to the lack of sunlight. Short black hair that fell straight down to her shoulder and a face that emitted youth once but now stolen by wrinkles made by stress. A small badge on the side of her white and blue uniform read “Elene”.

Without batting an eye, Elene’s hand reached and snatched away the still burning tobacco away from Justin’s hand. “I still don’t get why people still smoke this thing.” Her voice, raspy yet sweet sounding enough for her to sooth away little children, fell in the clogged air. She took the butt and inhaled, watching with interest as the end of the stick light up and gave off a bright red color.

Elene gave off a disgusted sound and a faint smoke burst out of her mouth and nose. “Eugh.”

Justin snorted, but he only reached out his hand to her and wait as she hesitantly return the cigar back to his hand. He put it on his mouth, hanging low enough not to accidently inhale.

Seemingly exasperated, Elene just glance at him before looking to the foggy town and beyond. “I feel like the fog’s gone thicker,” she said amidst the eerie silence. She pointed at a certain distance. “Just yesterday I could still see the clock tower.”

The clock tower—being the highest point that you could still see it just from far away—was the best place for gatherings, especially public announcements to happen. It was also the best place for anyone to get pickpocketed. Especially with the view now being shorter than 50 meters to the front.

Justin looked over to the place Elene pointed at. With great difficulty, he could barely make out what seemed to be a tower. “Hm,” he took the cigar away from his mouth and let himself relax against the railings. “You were here yesterday?”

Elene nodded. “I got stressed nowadays, you know? Lots' a people checking in for a small cough—then out of nowhere, they just start getting worst. Sometimes I was actually afraid I’ll see you in line.”

“Why so?”

She frowned. “You see, most of the thing I got in common from them lot is this: they’ve all smoked this—“ Elene pointed at the low hanging cigar at Justin’s hand, “—and now they can’t even breath without feeling pain at all.”

Justin just glanced at Elene, which seemed to frustrate her from the way her mouth started to scowl.

“Figure,” he muttered to himself.

Sometimes, he wonders why he has a certain inclination towards a very peculiar thing. From the moment he had first picked up an object that—to this day still belongs to him—his life had seemingly gone on a downhill slide, until perhaps, one day, he’ll regret even trying to live.

“Come on,” Elene grabbed Justin’s hand and took away the cigar, throwing it as far as her thin body allowed her to. “Let’s go in. I think the doctor once said the air’s gone bad now.”

Justin rose his eyebrow at him, expressing her to clarify her words. Without a second gone to waste, Elene opened her mouth the moment they both found themselves inside the pristine and sterile white building:

“Doctor Cess told me—this hasn’t been clarified yet though—that the pollution can actually shorten your life, or even worse—kill you."

Habitually, Justin’s mind flashed back to a certain accident, one where he overheard something he wasn’t supposed to know. He suppressed the intent to immediately flee and run away, keeping space between the two of them so as to not placate each other, but he decided against it just as quick. After all, even if Justin were to change himself for the better, Elene would probably try to look for him and destroy all the efforts that he had done swimmingly.

“…what gave him that idea?”

They spoke as they passed through the seemingly endless hall. The terrible atmosphere almost reminded Justin back of the time when he was just a child. Sorrow and longingness for things that never once could ever be his, and frustration for the world for giving birth to the him that was so weak and so incapable to even comfort himself.

The sound of crying and wallowing gave Justin a brief feeling of guilt, but he ignored it to the best of his abilities.

Elene shook her head. “I’m not so sure. Perhaps he’s seen that people’s been dying earlier than usual? Or maybe he feels that he’s been having far too many patients that he thinks everyone’s going to die an early age and that the pollution is to blame. I mean, I’m not saying he’s wrong, but—I just, I dunno.”

“If I die from smoking,” A cough erupted from the room they passed by. “What will you do?”

“Huh?” Elene gaped, but she spoke nonetheless, “Well, I’ll come to your funeral, that’s for sure. But I’ll probably spit on your grave for dying from something so stupid.”

… _I see._ Justin closed his eye and exhaled. It was to be expected from Elene after all. He muttered for himself. “…and if I die from someone killing me?”

“What did you say?” Elene asked. “Sorry, I didn’t hear it.”

Sometimes, Justin wonder why Elene seemed so sharp at times and so simple. The first time she asked him about his job and he answered with a stupid one as a newspaper boy she had believed it. It was such a big lie that even children was wary of him when he answered with the very same answer. And Justin didn’t even know why he kept on coming back to her. To keep on putting her on the edge of danger without her even knowing of a single damn thing.

“Nothing.” Justin tried his best to give his indifferent face, his hand itching to grab a hold of something.

Unexpectedly, Elene believed him or perhaps, she chose to not comment on it.

As of course, the rest of their walk went swell, with it finally ending with them reaching a room where most of the nurses are gathered talking with each other. As they approached, Elene suddenly looked guilt-stricken. She glanced at Justin, who could only raise an eyebrow at her unsuspected behavior.

“Err...” Elene scratched her head. “Sorry, I just remembered that I have something to do now. So, uh. I can’t go around with you now.”

Oh, so that was what it was. Truth be told, Justin didn’t intend to be doing his habitual stuff with Elene on today. So, he could only nod at her and watch as she disappeared completely from his view. He was now awkwardly staring at a closed door alone. Anyone who knows him completely who saw this would probably be baffled, but Justin oddly felt a sense of melancholy at the closed door in front of him.

It was metal, and coated with a thin layer of white paint. As expected from a hospital. There was always an odd sense of cleanliness within the corner of every room. Too clean. Sometimes Justin fantasized that there was something big the hospital was trying to hide away, much like a great many places he has actually visited before.

Justin walked to the front door of the hospital, leaving its facility. After all, lingering too long could be dangerous. And he wasn’t sick, so he had no way of getting out of the place without anyone getting suspicious.

Just as Justin got out, he saw a clarity of people rushing in. All coughing or holding their chest as though they were in pain. They probably were.

The sickly pale complexion was a big enough warning on its own, and combined with their coughing and hacking, he truly felt like being inside a hospital; a place where many are sick and despair filled the horizon.

Justin sighed and looked up to the sky. As always, the sun was nowhere to be seen, and musty air once again filled his lungs. He shook his head, and began walking away from the hospital.

Just shy from a random alleyway, someone nudged him in the elbow and urged him towards a deeper section of the city. As always, Justin looked towards the lighter side of the world before following the other person, not even minding the dirty ground that he was stepping on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to go back to struggling with writing my multi-chapter fic. Why is pacing stuff so hard... ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ


	4. Yoooo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May the lonely soul gifts you its childish laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, I don't know what the hell I'm doing, so here's something probably no one's going to read except for that one person who somehow subbed/follow this work.
> 
> This one's written quite some time ago, by which I mean that it's written in August and it already feels like a year to me.

A lonely petulant soul resides within the holiest of entrails. It seeks the justice that only appears that comes in a blue moon and makes childish happiness towards ones that give it their blessings.

Lo and the most prestigious one shall revive itself within its mortal wounds. A carnage of blood and innards that make do for a pleasure most desolate of them all. It sings holy, holy, holy and with its last breath it speaks of its most desired wish and starts shriveling like the poor worm that it is.

Of peak highness and grace, the lonely soul embraces its fate. It will come above to the world beyond and pummel down to the filthies of places. Just like the cycle of the moon, its beauty shines upon the beings that reside on land and water and the skies. It will guide them until eternity, and the calamity that gives birth to the new world blossoms like the most precious of jewels.

And when foolish ones come and rise from their graves, when their mighty self are rewritten in ways that shall bring doom towards the lonely soul, so will the newborn ones rise from their cradles and laugh along the tranquil silence.

It is only when the clash breaks and the illusory world is broken once more that pieces of a new mirror will replace all and everything. The scorched lands will be renewed by the breath of the prestigious one. It will rise like the echoes of the past; like the time when the holiest of beings walk on land and give their blessings to the filthiest of children.

But in the most basic essence, not a single being shall predominate over the world. Not even the lonely soul with its wish of paradoxical heights will know of eternal power and of an apex being that makes everything cower in fear. Even the most prestigious one only knows of imitation and lies that comes from the mouth of eldritch beings, to which it will grow maddening and start perishing for the sake of man.

A joyous thing is scarce. A joyous laughter even more so amidst everything else in this world.

When a laugh sprinkles like fresh dew and the fluttering emotions wriggle inside a being’s stomach and spills out mayhem of flies, a cycle repeats itself as though the mind of landwalkers are fragile as a untempered glass.

Mind you, there is only one that grows unaffected by the renewal of all. But when this childish one grows awake and learns of its spherical life, it shall grow despondent and all hopes shall be diminished as the light is made overshadowed by the new moon.

Yet why does a cycle keep on its rhythm and grow longer and longer until the attached bolt grows looser and looser that it spins like a madman? How must one awaken the soul of a being that smiles when it sleeps and grows doleful after its eyes see the world that it slumbers on?

Nary is there a sight where the world shall live in prosperity. Nary is there a life when the lonely souls understand how to stray from its fate and grow from its lonesome self.

Even the holiest of carnage only knows how to raise a newborn soul and make it live under the rules of the realm: It is not the fact that the rules are illiberal, nor the fact that they do not have a will of their own; it is only that the lives held within this world knows not of happiness nor of emotions that grow more and more incomprehensible as they grow more and more intense.

The unknown is a scary thing, they say. And that much is an obligation towards these beings. They know naught but the desolation that they understand, and they know nothing but the empty memories after each cycle.

It is but a purely hopeless cycle in which even the most buoyant of beings will lose all their courage and their body shall be remade with the sundering fragments of reality.

‘Tis not a pleasant wish for justice; not a joyful sacrifice where the statics could be heard and the errors can be picked apart with a stick while the broken images can be mended like a puzzle.

Nay.

It is only sickness and malady that extends and unfurl on the land and the skies and the air. Only the joyful one that slumber deep within the echoes of a chamber and the glorious prestige of the determined that shall be reborn over many growing eras to come.

Now, with all these conclusions completed, and the ending so far away from the reach of every being, we (the ones who speak and the one who understand laughter and joy more than every person) wish you the most pleasant of dreams and wishes.

May the lonely soul gifts you its childish laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as a sidenote, I'm lonely.. maybe I should join a discord server or something...

**Author's Note:**

> meh.


End file.
